


Duncan's Weekend

by pat_t



Series: Breaking Records [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos and Duncan make a bet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duncan's Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> : Adult content for male/male slash, language, violence, DM/M, sequel to A New Record.

Methos ground his teeth in frustration, noting the passing scenery with mounting annoyance. The fact that his lover was tapping the steering wheel rhythmically, while humming a badly mutilated show tune, was only serving to spiral his irritation into new heights. Grudgingly, he had to admit that he didn't really have a reason to be angry with his lover. After all, it _was_ his idea to place the bet in the first place. At the time, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. And, it had been an extraordinary twenty-four hours. So, he hadn't minded when they had fallen into a blissful lethargy, calling their bet a draw, and promising the other a weekend of complete surrender and obedience.

He had been completely accepting, even mildly elated, when Duncan had informed him that he wanted this weekend for his payment. They had planned their week ahead of time, taking an extended weekend in order to play out their fantasies. Methos had spent most of his week smirking with secret amusement as he tried to figure out what his passionate and loving partner would plan for him. He had, in fact, sported an excited penis most of the week as his mind played through one scenario after the other, his fantasies always finding him naked and panting in his Highlander's arms.

That is, until this morning after breakfast when Mac had informed him of his plans.

>   
>  _"Better get packed, Methos. We have a long drive ahead of us," Mac informed him as soon as the breakfast dishes had been washed and put away._   
> 

>   
>  _Methos grinned, a silent snicker almost escaping as he turned around to face his lover. "Where are we going? Didn't think I would need many clothes for this weekend."_   
> 

>   
>  _"We're going to the cabin and you'd better pack lots of jeans and warm flannel shirts. Bring your gloves and work boots too," Mac replied blandly._   
> 

>   
>  _The quirking lips thinned to a frown as Methos turned fully around to study him intently, perplexed by the look of bored indifference on his lover's face. "What **exactly** is your fantasy, MacLeod?"_   
> 

>   
>  _"Just like we said, Methos," Mac told him mildly. "For forty-eight hours you have to do exactly what I want you to do."_   
> 

>   
> _"And exactly_ what _would that be?" Methos bristled, pulling up to his full height as he glared at his partner._  
> 

>   
>  _Mac smiled and stepped away from the kitchen. "We're going to do all those repairs on the cabin that you've been putting off all year. You know." He pulled out their suitcases blithely. "Rebuild the front porch, fix the roof, reinforce the fencing, fix the kitchen floor." He flipped his suitcase open, and faced Methos with an innocent smile._   
> 

Methos hunched further down into his seat, feeling moody and contrary. Just wait until it was his weekend to make the rules.

~~~~~~

Duncan watched his lover out of the corner of his eye and smothered a grin. He could still hear Methos' reply ringing in his ears after he'd broached the subject of the weekend, and purposefully misled him.

>   
>  _Mac smiled gently, and eased himself away from the kitchen and his partner's threatening gaze before answering. "We're going to do all those repairs on the cabin that you've been putting off all year. You know." He pulled out their suitcases, acutely aware of the daggers his lover was shooting at him with his eyes. "Rebuild the front porch, fix the roof, reinforce the fencing, fix the kitchen floor." He flipped his suitcase open, turning to give his lover an innocent smile._   
> 

>   
>  _"Are you out of your mind, MacLeod? That's what you want for your weekend? You fantasize about me on my hands and knees putting down a kitchen floor?"_   
> 

>   
>  _Mac grinned, his mind reeling with possibilities. Oh yes, he could picture his partner on his knees, all right. Naked, sucking.... He shook the vision from his mind, and shrugged his shoulders instead. "Hey, you agreed to do anything I wanted. Total submission to anything I want to do for forty-eight hours. Of course, if you want to break our agreement...if your word...."_   
> 

>   
>  _"Of course, I won't break my word, MacLeod," Methos groused angrily._   
> 

>   
>  _Mac smiled widely as his partner stomped into the bedroom, yanked his clothes from the closet , and wordlessly stuffed them into a suitcase. The fact that Methos was calling him 'MacLeod' was a sure sign of his irritation. Mac picked up the suitcases , humming, as he shoved them into the Thunderbird._   
> 

Mac glanced at his peeved lover and sighed. Inwardly, he was tickled. It wasn't often that he was able to pull one over on the older immortal. He knew his out of tune humming was irritating Methos to no end and smiled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in outward oblivious delight.

In actuality, he had spent considerable time setting up this weekend. Time and help from a few friends. It had finally come together with the help of Amanda and Nick, who promised that everything had been set up exactly as he had planned, down to the last detail. The last and most difficult part had been left to him, however--getting one annoyed, pissed off five thousand year old man to the island without losing his head in the process.

He chanced another look at the other man, biting back a grin when his gaze was met with a deadly glare. There was nothing sexier than a pissed off Methos.

Methos narrowed his eyes, centering all his irritation towards the too cheerful man sitting next to him. Biting back an angry retort, he snorted instead, shifting in his seat to once again stare at the passing scenery. After all, he still had _his_ weekend to look forward to, and paybacks were hell. He laid his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and one by one, clicked off a mental list of possible tortures for his very significant other.

Mac glanced at his seemingly asleep partner, wondering at the self satisfied smirk gracing the beloved face.

~~~~~~

"I'm surprised you didn't want me to drag all this stuff in for you, Mac. Wasn't I supposed to be your _slave_ this weekend?"

Mac let out an exasperated sigh, studying his partner in the dim light. As much as he had enjoyed the teasing earlier, Methos' attitude was wearing thin after several tense hours in the confining space of the car. "No, Methos. You're not my slave," he stated wearily. "Besides, the weekend doesn't officially start until morning."

"Of course. Well, good night, MacLeod. Don't think I'll feel much like sex tonight, though, as I'll need to save up my energy for tomorrow." With that, he stomped to the bedroom, leaving his partner to stare incredulously at his back.

Mac shook his head and smiled. _'If only you knew, old man, if only you knew.'_

~~~~~~

Saturday 10:00 am

Methos groaned and turned over, aware of the familiar buzz of his lover as it floated over him with gentle fingers. He was being eased into consciousness easily, carefully, by a softly spoken word, and an even softer caress to his back. "Methos."

He opened his eyes, almost forgetting in that half second that he was supposed to be angry at the beautiful man sitting next to him on the bed. Almost. "What do you want, MacLeod?"

Mac smiled, knowing his lover was still angry with him, but hoping to rectify that soon. He waited until the other man rolled over to face him, laughing silently to himself when the expressive eyes widened in surprise. "Mac?"

Methos gave his lover a long appraising look as he rolled over, shifting up on his elbows to peer at the tray in his lover's lap. Mac was dressed in a royal blue silk robe, his hair flowing freely around his shoulders, and he looked decidedly delicious and edible. In his lap was a silver tray, sporting a covered plate, a glass of orange juice in a decorative wine goblet, and one red rose in an elegant glass vase. "What's that?" He pointed at the tray with a nod of his head.

"Breakfast," came the softly spoken reply.

"Shouldn't I be making you breakfast? What time is it?" Methos peered around to the bedside table, searching with his eyes for the clock radio. "Ten. Mac, why did you let me sleep so late? What are you up to?"

Duncan watched his lover's hazel eyes narrow in suspicion and sighed. "I kind of lied to you about what I wanted this weekend."

"You did?" Methos shifted a pillow behind his back to sit up. "Why?"

"Wanted to surprise you," he said, looking intently at the tray he was still holding in his lap.

"Surprise me?" Methos repeated. _What was the Highlander up to?_

Mac took in a deep breath, releasing it into an audible sigh. Truthfully, this was more frightening than the well constructed lie he had used to get the man to the cabin.

"I don't care about the roof, Methos."

"You don't?"

Mac looked down again, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. "Or the floor, or the porch."

"Okay, we didn't come here to patch up the cabin. Then, what.... Will you look at me, Mac?" Methos' voice rose in frustration.

Mac looked up, catching bright green eyes as they stared at him intently. He swallowed hard, trying to dissipate the lump from his throat. "I want you to let me love you, Methos. For forty-eight hours."

"You want to have sex for forty-eight hours?" Methos asked incredulously. "Mac, that's what got us into this in the first place. And, if I remember correctly," he added mischievously, "we were pretty well incapacitated after the first day. At least you were."

"Me? You...." Mac laughed. "No," he grew serious again. "You don't understand. I don't mean 'make love to you ' even though I certainly want to do that too. What I mean is 'love you'. The way you never have before. For forty-eight hours, I want to treat you like a lover. Romantically. The way I could treat Tessa. No matter what, I want to be able to pamper you, hold your hand, coddle you. Will you let me do that, Methos?"

"Coddle me? Breakfast in bed?" Methos swept a hand towards the forgotten tray.

"For a start." Mac smiled, placing the tray over his lover's lap. He opened the lid, and introduced Methos to his meal. "Eggs benedict, hash browns, fresh fruit, toast."

Methos watched his lover with amusement, picking up the goblet to sip his orange juice. A smile slowly stretched across his face when he took a sip of the cool liquid. "Mimosa? When did we get champagne?"

Mac smiled, encouraged by the change he saw in his lover's disposition. "I had it delivered. A few friends helped. You like?"

"Ummm, very good." Methos picked up his fork, sliding eggs into his mouth.

Mac licked his lips while watching the food as it entered the moist haven. "Well, go ahead and eat, and then I'll start our bath."

"Our bath?" Methos asked, hesitating with a fork full of hash browns at his lips.

"Our bath. Pamper, remember?"

"Oookaay." Methos shoved another bite into his mouth, grinning widely as Duncan left the room.

~~~~~~

"Mmmm." Methos melted into his lover's embrace. The hot water was heavenly on his skin, silky smooth with the almond bath oil. He was lying against his lover's chest, Mac's muscled legs cocooning him from each side, his arms around his waist. Methos closed his eyes, and shifted against his lover's heat, while the hot scent of the bath wafted up to his nostrils. He could feel Duncan's sex as it pressed against his lower back and buttocks, hardened and ready. Duncan was just holding him, though, making no overtures for sex, as they let the bath tantalize and soothe their senses.

"You like?" the sweet baritone behind him asked.

"Oh yes." He sighed, feeling his partner's arms tighten around him protectively.

They stayed like that for long moments, the feel of the other's body invoking sparks of pleasure to all their nerve bundles, igniting a fire in their blood which raced and pulsed into the erectile tissue of their penises.

They were both painfully erect when Mac took the bath cloth and ran it over the smooth expanse of his lover's chest. He took his time, making each stroke a caress, spending long minutes at the pink buds of Methos' nipples, bringing each one into a hard peak before moving down to his abdomen.

Methos moaned, keeping his eyes closed and reveling in the heat and desire he felt emitting from his lover. The wandering cloth bypassed his sex, going instead to his arms, stroking each firm muscle lovingly before delving under his armpits. He giggled when the cloth stroked him, fighting to pull away from the teasing touch.

"Ticklish, are we?" Mac asked in amusement, keeping his hand firmly into the armpit he was determined to wash.

"No, of course not," Methos assured him, as he continued to struggle to liberate his appendage.

"Uh huh," came the amused reply. Mac relented, making a mental note to keep that little bit of information tucked away for later. He moved the cloth down further, shifting so he could reach Methos' long legs. Once each lower extremity was cleaned and caressed, he shifted once again, and began soaping the smooth back. He used strong, caressing strokes, feeling the shift and glide of each muscle group under his hands, once again marveling at this incredible man's strength and agility.

He continued with Methos' neck, running the cloth in smooth circular movements. He gently rubbed and caressed the smooth skin of his shoulders, gently massaging his back before moving down to his deltoids. He took time to knead each muscle group, feeling the tension release with the firm, but gentle touch. He heard a contented sigh, and continued, bending Methos forward to gently knead and massage the smooth planes of his back.

He finished with his lover's back, pulling the other man against his chest as he did. Reaching around, he found his lover's cock, and stroked it, feeling it pulse beneath his touch. Methos growled and he smiled. "Want something?" he asked gently, letting his breath brush his lover's ear.

Methos didn't answer; he pushed his cock up into Duncan's hand, instead, to communicate his urgency.

Mac chuckled, gripping the long penis harder as he set up a rhythm, cupping Methos' balls gently with his other hand. He heard a hiss and groan of pleasure and sped up his stroking to match the frenzied thrusts of his partner's hips towards his hand. He could feel his own hardness pulsing against his lover's lower back and groaned, pressing himself against the slick skin.

It wasn't long before they were both thrusting hard and fast, Methos into Mac's hand, while Mac humped against Methos' back. Water sloshed against the sides of the big tub, occasionally escaping to the tiled floor when the movements became erratic and frenzied. Methos climaxed first, his warm seed spattering across the bath water. Mac cried out shortly after, his own come spraying against the warm skin of his lover.

Mac allowed his head to fall back against he hard tile, his eyes closed, his breathing labored and shallow. He felt his lover's head rest against his chest once again and smiled.

"You like?" he whispered towards the damp head lying under his chin.

"Mmmm, that's the way a man should get a bath," came the silky reply.

Mac chuckled, hoping they could fight off the sex induced lethargy long enough to get out of the cooling water.

~~~~~~

Saturday 03:00 pm

Mac finished putting the dishes away after a light lunch of salad and fruit. He looked over at his lover who was sprawling shamelessly across the couch. He let a ghost of a smile touch his lips before treading lightly into the living room area to place a kiss on the soft lips. "Ready for your massage, baby?"

The curious hazel eyes opened, pinning him with an amused look. "Baby?" came the mocking question.

"Baby," he repeated with certainty. "My weekend, remember?"

Methos shook his head, allowing his amusement to show openly on his face. "Baby," he repeated, before the rest of his lover's question registered in his brain. "Massage?"

"Yeah, everything's ready. After you." Mac indicated the bedroom area with the sweep of his hand.

Methos followed him into the bedroom, shaking his head in amusement when he beheld the transformation. The bedding had been changed, with small pillows placed strategically for his limbs. There were scented candles already burning and perfuming the air. Several vases of fresh flowers were splayed about, adding color and aroma to the air. Multiple vials of lotions had been set out on the bedside table where the mundane instruments of daily living had been removed. He quirked a brow, looking at his lover in wonderment for the tenth time that day. "When did you do this?"

"While you were laid out on the couch reading. You like?" Mac looked at his lover expectantly.

Methos couldn't help but laugh at the almost childlike expression on Mac's face. "I could get used to this," he answered, going over to the bedside table to examine the vials of oils.

"I wouldn't mind," came the soft reply behind him and he smiled, knowing it was true. The fact was that Mac was a romantic and sensualist at heart. He had always treated his lovers with care, cherishing their feelings, freely giving his love. His relationship with Methos had been a learning experience, and not one born without a certain amount of pain in the process.

Methos had been working hard to keep his own identity. It would be too easy to lose himself in Mac's world. He wanted to be his lover, he just wasn't sure he could be his 'mate'. So, he had drawn his lines, boundaries, to protect himself. When he had felt Mac getting too close, he would withdraw slightly and set up those barriers to remind Mac of his boundaries. He knew only too well what this weekend meant to his lover. He also knew only too well what Mac was really asking for. It wasn't permission to give him a massage or breakfast in bed. He was asking his lover to let down those walls, pull back the boundaries, be his mate. For forty-eight hours. Just two days.

Methos began to undress, watching his lover from under his lashes. Duncan was standing very still, watching him, the pink of his tongue slipping out from his partially open lips only to disappear once again into his mouth. There was a look of tenderness on his face, with just the stirring of a shared hunger that never really seemed to go away when they were together.

He climbed onto the bed, completely nude, and waited while Duncan gazed at him, letting him take his fill. "You are so beautiful." The Scottish brogue was soft as the words swept over Methos with a verbal caress.

Methos felt the heat radiate from his lover's words and looked up into his face, catching his breath from the look of pure unadulterated love he saw reflected there. Oh yes, this was about much more. "Turn over," came the softly spoken command. He complied, rolling over and resting his head on his arms across the pillow supplied for him.

He waited, closing his eyes, allowing the scents from the candles and flowers to caress him. He heard Duncan walk away from the bed only to return a moment later while the soothing sounds of slow, soulful jazz ebbed from the stereo speakers.

Duncan looked down at the feast in front of him, knowing he loved every molecule of the man. He placed his hands on the broad shoulders, kneading the same muscle groups he had caressed just that morning in the tub. Duncan's hands were big, strong. But, he had learned how to be gentle and tender with his lovers and he showed that now, using just the right amount of strength and gentleness to massage and knead, caress and soothe. He felt Methos' muscles tense and relax under his touch as he stroked down the strong back until he reached the rising swell of Methos' ass. He massaged the firm muscular mounds, enjoying the feel of the smooth skin under his fingers, until his hands converged in the center of his lover's body to skim the crease in-between. Methos twitched his ass playfully, obviously loving the feel of the questing fingertips dipping between his ass cheeks. Mac removed his hands and chuckled when his lover groaned his displeasure.

"Not yet, baby. Turn over," he instructed gently.

Methos turned over and glared. "Duncan, about this 'baby' thing...."

"Forty-eight hours Methos," he reminded his lover.

"Fine," he retorted bitingly, secretly wondering if he could ever admit to Mac that deep down inside himself, he had a secret ache to really belong to another. That he didn't want to be afraid.

He watched Duncan poor the oil on his hands, rubbing them together to warm before placing them on his chest. Mac had good hands, strong hands. The hands of a killer...and a lover. The man was too damn good at both, and Methos closed his eyes to the overwhelming sight of the Highland warrior standing over him. Closed his eyes to the beauty and the strength, to the look of worship he saw reflected in the man's eyes. Worship for him, and he didn't understand how someone like Duncan MacLeod could love him with so much passion.

Duncan worked his way down the smooth muscled chest, taking a moment to tickle at the indented belly button. He chuckled when Methos squirmed against the effort. _So, another ticklish spot. Learning all your secrets, old man._

He worked down each leg, taking special time and effort with each slender foot. He massaged the arches, back to the slender ankles, feeling the soft rhythmic pulse beat under his fingertips. He worked his way back up, gently separating Methos' legs, giving special attention to the soft inner thigh. He closed his eyes, letting his fingertips guide his touch, his breath hitching with remembered passion. He could almost feel those strong legs wrapped around him now, pulling him deeper into the pliant body, taking his hardness with so much passion that it left him shuddering in ecstasy.

 

Hearing his lover's breathing accelerate, he opened his eyes. Methos' cock was fully erect, the head blush red with its pounding need. He looked up to see hazel eyes watching him. Eyes so full of need and passion that they had gone almost black with desire. He leaned down and touched their lips together, not letting the kiss grow deep. Just a whisper of lips, a flick of a tongue, a shared breath. Methos' eyes were watching him as he reached for the straining erection, wrapped his hand around it, and stroked it. He brought his other hand down to caress and stroke his lover's full balls, loving the weight of them, the soft skin covering his most precious jewels.

Methos pumped his hips to the strokes of his lover's hand as Mac increased the pressure, adjusting his rhythm to his lover's thrusts. It wasn't long before he was arching into Mac's hand, crying out as his orgasm took him with wave upon wave of pleasure milking him dry.

Mac felt the throbbing shaft pulse and jerk in his hand. He continued his strokes, increasing the urgency until his partner was arching up into his hand, crying out as stream upon stream of thick white come was pulsing from the red, swollen head. He felt his own cock throb in response and involuntarily moaned.

Methos heard his lover moan and opened his eyes. The reason for his lover's distress was immediately evident as the large blood-engorged penis bobbed in the air in front of him. Smiling, he shook off his post coital lethargy, and scooted down until he was directly in front of the impressive organ.

Mac closed his eyes, willing his body to behave. This was for Methos, to show Methos how it could be if he would just let Mac love him: totally, the way he deserved to be loved. The way Mac needed to love. He demanded his breathing to slow, urgently willing his body into a meditative state where his pulse would slow and stop the tormenting throbbing between his legs.

He tensed and shuddered when a wet, suctioning heat enveloped his penis. Opening his eyes, he looked down, not surprised to see his lover's mouth on his organ, his nose buried in Mac's tight curls. "Jesus, Methos," he groaned, before his body took over and he began thrusting into that incredible heat.

Methos sucked and licked down the organ, holding the strong hips lightly to allow Mac to thrust at will and take what he needed. He flicked his tongue over the large vein running the length of the long cock, paying special attention to the silky head. He relaxed his throat muscles, letting Mac take him in, as hard and fast as he needed to. It wasn't long before Duncan was crying out, his penis pulsing in his throat, spraying him with his salty cream.

Duncan fell across his lover's body, his breathing and pulse erratic. Methos stroked his back and he sighed.

"Hell of a massage, Duncan."

Mac felt the rumble of laughter accompany his lover's statement and chuckled, lifting up to place a wet kiss on the flat abdomen beneath him.

~~~~~~

Saturday 11:30 pm

Methos snuggled into his lover's warmth, once again sated and content. He gently stroked his fingers across the fine dark hairs covering Mac's chest, marveling at the play of the fire as it crackled, throwing shadows across the muscles of his lover's body. He felt a rumble of contentment come from somewhere deep inside himself and wondered at it even as he chuckled.

"What?"

He chuckled again, nipping at the tiny bud of a dark nipple that had somehow found itself under his mouth. "Me, us." He sighed as if that should fully explain everything.

Mac looked at his partner, his brow furrowing in concern as he wondered what was going through that ancient brain.

"Stop that, Duncan," Methos told him, gently stroking the frown away with his fingertips. "I'm happy. Stop thinking so much, let it be."

Methos felt the tension go out of Mac's body--Mac's perfect , magnificent body that was now lying next to his in all its naked glory as they cuddled in front of a roaring fire, only moments after a passionate, mind blowing hour of hot sex. Methos was being honest with Mac. He was happy. Gloriously happy.

It had been a wonderful evening. Mac had gone all out for dinner: steaks and lobster, served with a fine wine and candlelight, and a new bouquet of fresh flowers as a reminder of his love. Later they had cuddled under the moonlight, letting the cool night breeze wash over them like a caress. Duncan had taken his hand, entwining their fingers as they talked, telling each other secrets they had never shared before. Methos loved the sound of Duncan's voice: the rich timber as it thickened with his Scottish brogue when he was impassioned and the gentle whispers when he was feeling tender.

Later they had lain together, a loving silhouette against the backdrop of the fire-lit room as they tasted and touched each other into fiery need. It was a need they both knew too well, and they both took and gave until they flew apart from the ecstasy, leaving them sated and spent.

Now was a time of gentle easing, and tender touches as they drifted into sleep.

~~~~~~

Sunday 8:00 am

"Meeethos." The name was a sing song melody in his ear.

Methos opened his eyes, not surprised to see his lover already up and dressed. "No breakfast in bed this morning?" he asked, both amused and slightly annoyed with himself when he realized he was disappointed.

"Breakfast, but not in bed," Duncan calmly replied, a smile gracing his face as he looked at the rumpled figure gazing at him in confusion. "Get dressed, baby."

Methos lifted a brow, but did not answer as he pulled himself out of bed. Mac started to leave the room, chuckling when he heard his lover muttering while pulling on his jeans. "Baby, I'll show him baby. Bloody boyscout."

Methos entered the living room, fully awake and dressed, his curiosity now piqued. What was the man up to now?

"Come on," Duncan urged, throwing a blanket towards him which Methos caught easily. Duncan picked up a picnic basket, which he had obviously packed before waking him.

"What are we doing, Mac?" Methos asked as they left the comfortable confines of the cabin.

"Don't tell me you've never been on a picnic, Methos?" Mac asked him, amused by the question.

"Of course, I have. Just not when I had a comfortable table just a few yards away. You know, there was a time when we always had to eat our meals on the ground."

"I know, Methos. Just humor me, okay?" he asked in exasperation.

"Fine," came the terse reply as they spread out the blanket

Duncan tried to ignore his lover's sullen face as he spread the morning meal out before them. He only began to relax when he saw the frown turning up into a smile as his best china was laid out. He set out the caviar, along with assorted hors d'oeuvres before opening the chilled champagne.

Methos grinned as the morning treat was displayed. He had to admit, Mac certainly knew how to have a picnic. He took a tiny bite of the caviar while Mac poured the champagne, not noticing when the Scot's eyes turned mischievous. The next thing he knew, he was covered in two hundred pounds of horny immortal while his mouth was licked hungrily.

He began to laugh and pushed the other man away in order to free his lungs. "Duncan, it's not that I mind, but even immortals have to breathe."

Mac chuckled as he pulled himself off his lover, placing one last parting kiss on his lips as he did. "You had caviar on your lips, just wanted a taste," he informed him with a smirk.

"Well, I can handle that," came back the sultry reply. Duncan watched, mesmerized, as Methos picked up a tiny spoonful of caviar and placed it on his tongue before reaching over to take his lips in a fiery open mouthed kiss. Duncan opened his mouth to the kiss, felt Methos' tongue slide in, and the tasty treat was deposited onto his own tongue. He took it willingly, as their tongues touched and probed, sharing the taste of not only the caviar, but one another. It was a breathless moment later when they broke apart, their lips swollen and their pupils dilated.

Methos felt his jeans tighten against his swelling cock, and groaned as Mac took a sip of champagne. He opened his mouth, letting the cool bubble of the champagne transfer from Mac's mouth to his own. Another bite, another drink and they were swimming in desire as the meal was consumed with each hungry kiss.

They were naked within a heartbeat, the annoying material pulled away with unrestrained urgency. He watched with wild eyes as Mac took another drink of champagne, preparing for a kiss that never came, falling helplessly instead into a haze of pleasure as his cock was taken into the champagne soaked mouth, feeling both the heat of Mac's tongue, and the cool tingle of the champagne as he was licked and sucked into oblivion.

Duncan let the champagne dribble down the pulsing shaft as he flicked his tongue over every sensitive nerve ending, sucking gently until he could taste his lover's bitter precum mix with the sweet liquid. His lover was moaning under him, his hips bucking into the air as his cock thrust deeper and deeper into the compliant throat. He took all his lover gave, and more, as he continued to taste and suck. One more flick of his tongue under the sensitive head, one more sucking motion down the shaft, and Methos was crying out, spilling himself into Duncan's mouth.

Methos cried out, his body jerking wildly with his climax. He was barely conscious of the fact that his legs were being lifted over Mac's shoulders until he was entered. He felt the hard thrusts of his lover's cock inside his body, and shuddered with pleasure as his prostate was stroked repeatedly. It was too much and he screamed again as another climax took him, this one almost dry as he was already spent and empty. He heard Mac cry out, felt his weight as he fell across him, and smiled contentedly before succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep.

~~~~~~

Sunday 9:00 pm

Duncan stroked across his lover's jaw, loving the feel of the stubble against his fingertips.

Methos' head was cradled in his lap as they cuddled on the couch, his eyes closed with a playful grin on his face. He brought his finger down to the smiling lips, only to have it nipped and suckled in turn as it was devoured into the hot mouth.

He found himself looking into deep green eyes as his finger was released. "Why are you brooding, Duncan?" he was asked gently.

"No reason," he shrugged.

Methos frowned, knowing his lover was lying. Duncan had been in a deep brood most of the evening. And, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Their forty-eight hours were almost up, and with it, Methos' promise to let Duncan guide their relationship. He took a deep breath, once again closing his eyes as Duncan's fingers ghosted over his face.

Duncan frowned, mentally kicking himself for upsetting Methos' happy mood. It was their last night here and he had ruined it. He couldn't blame Methos. He knew why the ancient immortal couldn't commit to more in their relationship. He understood the need for emotional distance. Dammit, he had already lost too many to the Game, himself. But, if only the other man would open up just a little bit and let him in, they could be so much more. Have so much more between them.

Sighing, he resigned himself to reality, thankful for the chance to have the man in his life at all. Truthfully, it was a good life. If Methos was sometimes distant with his affection in front of other people, he more than made up for it behind closed doors. And, frankly, Methos wasn't Tessa; he could never be Tessa. He was a man who had taken care of himself for a very long time and he needed his space and independence. The last thing he needed was a four hundred year old man mooning over him.

Methos sighed, waiting for his lover's fingers to still on his face. He knew what was bothering the other man. Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod was an open book. A beautiful, passionate, loving open book. _'God, you're a fool, Methos,'_ he told himself even as he spoke his lover's name.

"Duncan?" Mac's thoughts were interrupted by the soft baritone.

"Hmm?"

"I don't really mind if you're a little romantic when we get home."

"You don't?" he asked in disbelief.

"No, might even be nice occasionally."

"Can I call you 'baby'?"

"Don't push it, MacLeod," he warned before snorting in exasperation. "All right, but if you do it in front of Joe or Ryan, I'll kill you."

 

The End  



End file.
